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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22490065">It Couldn't Be Better</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458'>Bluewolf458</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Sentinel (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Sentinel Thursday</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:42:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,030</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22490065</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's truck tells its life story</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It Couldn't Be Better</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Sentinel Thursday prompt 'Jim's truck'</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It Couldn't Be Better</p><p>by Bluewolf</p><p>I've had quite a long and definitely mixed life.</p><p>When I was new, I was bought by a man who delivered fruit - and sometimes vegetables - from farms just outside Cascade to the various shops in Cascade that sold fruit and vegetables. It wasn't particularly onerous - the loads weren't heavy, and the roads - mostly - weren't very busy. And while you mightn't expect a truck to have much appreciation of scenery, I did find the countryside we passed through quite beautiful.</p><p>But it was too good to last.</p><p>You can't really expect a truck to understand the whys of Human life; I never really knew why, after three years of running me around the local farms, my owner 'retired'. He bought a small car to replace me, and sold me to another delivery firm.</p><p>I did a good job for him for five years. Again, fairly light work, but always inside the city. I found myself missing the countryside. And then he sold me, I don't know why. He sold me to a builder.</p><p>That was harder work. The loads were a lot heavier and much dirtier, and my new owner didn't keep me nearly as clean. Though when I think of it, did he need to? He was carrying bricks and mortar, things used to build walls, whereas David had been carrying fruit, something that would be eaten by the people who bought it, and Bill had also taken a certain pride in my appearance.</p><p>While David owned me, I got regular services and a full overhaul once a year.  Bill had me serviced regularly.</p><p>Finlay didn't bother. If I broke down - and even though I didn't like Finlay, if only because he clearly thought of me as a tool, I hated failing my owner - he had the fault fixed, but after a few years I could see the day coming when I had a really serious breakdown. My fuel system didn't feel right, my timing belt was straining...</p><p>And eventually that day came.</p><p>I saw Finlay walking out of the garage; he never came back. I guessed that he had decided it would cost too much to repair me and that this might very well be the end for me - sold to the garage where I would be used for spare parts. Losing more and more usable bits until the last unusable scraps ended up as landfill.</p><p>But no! I was given a complete, thorough overhaul, and - feeling better than I had for quite some time - ended up being put onto the sales floor! My companions there were mostly pretty elderly, one or two were older than me.</p><p>None of us were priced high, and I was afraid that I might end up being bought by someone like Finlay, who would work me until I broke down again then abandon me (again) to be used - really used next time - for spare parts.</p><p>It wasn't long before I was sold, and my new owner drove me into the center of Cascade and into a big building... into a car parking area? and carefully backed me into a space. There was a car on each side of me, several others beyond them. There was a small van several spaces away. But I was the only truck.</p><p>And then I became aware of a sense of quiet... communication? between the vehicles. And one of the cars beside me seemed to be 'talking' to me.</p><p>/... bought you?/</p><p>I thought back to it. /Sorry - this is the first time I've been left with other vehicles. I didn't know I could talk to anyone!/</p><p>/Ah. Don't think you'll be left in here for long at a time, though you'll be in for a while most days. It can be quite fun, exchanging what we've been doing with other cars - oh, sorry, of course you're not a car, though if Jim bought you he'll be using you as a car./</p><p>
  <em>Used as a car? Me, a truck?</em>
</p><p>/Jim can be quite hard on vehicles,/ the car continued, /but he's a good owner. Trouble is, he's obsessed with catching criminals. Well, they all are, or they wouldn't be in this job, but he's more obsessed than any of the others. So you'll need to get used to going faster than you've ever gone before./</p><p>/What is 'this job'?/</p><p>/We all belong to people who are policemen or who work for the police. The cars who belong to the secretaries or people who work in - say - Forensics mostly don't get involved in high-speed chases, but it's happened once or twice. But you belong to one of the detectives, and it's amazing how often Jim gets involved in one of those chases. A lot of the cars we chase don't really want to be running away from us, but of course they have to do what their drivers say. And often they're quite badly hurt because their owners don't drive as well as they think they do, and end up hitting something. Sometimes the owners are badly hurt too, or maybe even killed. A car that's ended up hitting something at speed... Usually unrepairable./</p><p>/What about the car doing the chasing?/ I asked.</p><p>/Probably has to have some repair work done to the suspension, something like that, but apart from that? A feeling of guilt for helping to injure a fellow car so badly, though ultimately it's completely the fault of the owners./</p><p>It gave me something to think about.</p><p>But I soon came to enjoy the work I did with Jim. It was only occasionally he really pressed down on my accelerator; most of the time he drove at a comfortable speed. And he's a good owner. He keeps me well serviced and clean. I'm thirty years old now - that's a long life for a truck! - and feel I'll probably remain active for at least twenty more. And sometimes Jim and his partner Blair take me into Cascade National Forest, where once again I can enjoy looking at the scenery while they go walking or fishing.</p><p><em>And</em> I have a good friend in Blair's Volvo.</p><p>Life for a truck couldn't possibly be better!</p>
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